Chapter Twenty-Two
Twenty-Two
Rashad emerged from a hot shower. He exchanged the thick towel he’d dried off with for the warmth of soft cotton sheets, an old quilt and faux-fur comforter.
All of that and the downstairs thermostat was still set to eighty.
This California native wasn’t a fan of the colder weather, with temps Anna assured him would drop further once winter arrived.
He positioned the pillows behind him, reached for his notebook and rested his head against the headboard.
After leaving Side Chic’k, he’d driven around the Eighteenth and Vine area with no destination in mind, only the conversation that happened between him and Jamilah’s dad, and the uncomfortable work environment that played out the rest of the day.
He thought he’d found a spot to find his groove and perfect his craft.
But the last problem he needed while still on parole, or ever, was an overly protective father who also just happened to be a detective, one who might have been responsible for the patrol car he’d seen near Side Chic’k when he circled the block.
Funny how earlier he for sure thought his pen would be on Jamilah. Instead other, more serious thoughts flowed from the ink.
Stereotyped. Profiled.
Misjudged. Lost juvenile.
Grown up. Changed mind.
Major shift not duly noted.
Lost rage. Turned page.
Still judged—got outvoted.
Family affairs. Cops. Bold stares.
I’m…
Rashad’s phone beeped. Probably Juke, he thought, noting it was almost midnight. Most of his calls or texts this late were from California.
It wasn’t the West Coast.
Hey, Rashad. You up? It’s Jamilah
I’m up
Good. I’m outside
Even though far from the basement window, Rashad looked toward the street. His thumbs flew across the keys.
Outside where?
Anna’s house
WTH?
I know it’s late. Can I come in?
Rashad almost said no, but curiosity won. What did she have to say now that couldn’t have been said at the restaurant?
Come around to the side and down the stairs to the basement entrance
He rolled out of bed and slid into a pair of sweats. Just as he pulled on a T-shirt, Jamilah tapped on the door.
He opened it.
She stood unmoving, as if suddenly unsure of the decision that brought her there.
“You coming in, or are you going to stay outside?”
Rashad observed her brief, nervous smile as she entered.
“What’s up, Jamilah?”
Her expression changed as she took a step toward him. It went from being shy and uncertain to more serious and determined. Instead of an answer, she flung her purse on a nearby chair and hungrily kissed a stunned Rashad like she needed his breath to live.
“Hold up. Baby, wait—”
“I don’t want to wait,” she all but growled without removing her lips from his. “I want you. Now.”
She stepped back, let her coat fall and revealed a black silk nighty embellished with roses that hit the top of her thighs.
“Jamilah, I think we should talk—”
As he said this, she removed her boots. Then down came one strap of the nighty, followed by the other. She stepped out of the lingerie and stood bare-ass naked, hands on hips, titties jiggling.
“Do I look like I came here for conversation?”
Rashad visibly swallowed as he took in the tempting feast before him.
“Got damn, Boss Lady.”
She shimmied past him and climbed into the bed, intentionally swaying her natural bubble ass as she crawled toward the middle.
Whatever rebuttal he was trying to formulate evaporated like smoke in the wind.
He slid off the sweatpants he’d hurriedly donned to cover his nakedness.
In hindsight he realized there’d been no need for that.
A T-shirt quickly joined the pile of clothes on the floor.
He crawled into bed and on top of Jamilah, determined to give her everything she’d come for.
For that to happen, he’d have to slow things down. He replaced her ravenous actions with a slow grazing of his lips against hers, his tongue gently poking, prodding, but not dipping deep. She moaned, placed her arms around his neck and tried to control the pace.
With an alpha man like Rashad, that was never going to happen.
His tongue slid from her mouth to her chin and down to her neck, where he kissed her gently, almost reverently, as his thumb lazily stroked her nipple into a hardened peak.
Soon his lips were on a journey to get acquainted with said peak.
He dipped his head and captured it with his teeth, swiped it with his tongue while his thumb gave attention to her other breast.
She hissed. “Rashad…”
“Relax, baby. This is gonna take a while.”
He continued to assault her breasts, one after the other, as Jamilah squirmed impatiently.
He blew against the wet nipples, watched the goose bumps pop up all over her chest. This was the kind of sex Rashad preferred.
The type where two people weren’t just fucking, not just having sex, but making love.
Right or wrong, orthodox or not, that’s what Rashad wanted to do with Jamilah—make the kind of slow, thoughtful love that would stamp him on her heart forever.
He felt her hands slide through his locs as he shifted and continued his trek down her body, mapping out her curves with his lips, tongue, and fingers, appreciating every inch of soft brown skin.
The scent of her essence wafted into his nostrils and went straight to his dick, which thickened and elongated with anticipation.
But it wasn’t time for that. Not yet.
He kissed the top of her mound, licked her folds ever so lightly.
Just enough to let her know he had special plans for that particular part of her body.
Then he went to his knees, spread her legs and kissed the sensitive insides near her throbbing heat, watched as her nub grew and quivered.
At that moment, Rashad believed that if clits could talk, hers would be shouting Here! I’m right here!
The thought made Rashad smile, give it a kiss, then continue his journey to know the rest of her. He sought out and gave attention to the sensitive places. The tender, insides of her legs. Behind the knees. Her ankles. Toes.
When he sucked in her cute, manicured big toe, Jamilah gasped loudly, clutching fistfuls of sheet in both hands.
“We’ve got to be quiet, baby,” Rashad warned. “Charles and Anna are on the third level, but the vents might pick up loud noises.”
“Please, just…”
“Don’t worry. I’m definitely going to do that.”
Rashad decided she’d waited long enough to experience her first release.
He slid back up between her legs and began to worship her pussy with his skilled tongue.
He used his middle finger to toy with another entry.
Almost immediately, Jamilah’s legs began to shake.
She began to thrash around on the bed. He held her in place, forcing her to endure every second of the sensual assault.
He kissed and licked and nibbled until the mewling stopped and the shaking subsided, then covered her body and sealed this first act with a deep, French kiss.
He ground himself against her, giving her a feel of the pleasure to come, then rolled off the bed, retrieved a Magnum, and rejoined her.
The smile she gave him, one both tentative and thankful, her eyes piercing through to his soul even as tiny teardrops hovered at the corner of her eye.
“That was incredible,” she whispered. “I’ve never—”
He swallowed the rest of her sentence in a kiss that turned back on her juices.
He slid his masterful manhood up and down her wetness, getting harder with every moan, every gyration.
She shifted and widened her legs to give him greater access.
Nothing about the woman beneath him resembled the conservative, bougie sistah he’d met that first day.
No, this woman was all fire, desire, and wild abandon. A boss in the bed.
He raised her to her knees and began a slow journey into the caverns of her heat.
The friction was delicious, his patience incredible.
He gyrated slowly, teasing in and out as her body adjusted, admiring the beautiful round ass being presented before him.
He dipped into her star, eased in farther.
Massaged her cheeks. Squeezed her hips. Again, he felt Jamilah’s annoyance at his slow pace.
She pushed back against him. This time, he allowed it.
Wider. Deeper. Until he was fully inside her. Then the fun truly began.
After a few rounds of lovemaking, the pair fell asleep. Rashad woke up around four, went into the bathroom, and wet a warm cloth. He brought it back out and began a thoughtful ablution of Jamilah’s sweet spot. She stirred, then awakened with a smile.
“What are you doing?”
“You were tight,” he said, while continuing his ritual. “Might be a little sore tomorrow.”
He left for a sec and returned with a rinsed, hot towel and placed it at the door to her paradise. After taking turns in the bathroom, they cuddled beneath the sheets.
“Yeah, it’s been a while. Plus, you’re rather…blessed…in that area.”
He leaned over, kissed the top of her head. “You all right?”
He felt her nod.
“You were the aggressor tonight.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t you dare apologize. I liked it. You knew what you wanted and went after it. That takes courage. Being self-assured looks amazing on your fine, naked ass.”
He squeezed a cheek for emphasis. She kissed his shoulder in gratitude.
“Thanks for saying that. It means a lot. This is new territory for me. I’m still not sure how I feel about it.”
“Do you regret coming over?”
“Not yet.”
He chuckled. “The jury is still out, huh?”
“Following my heart isn’t a common occurrence.
There are so many reasons I can cite for why this shouldn’t have happened.
Standing on my own is the right thing to do, but I’ve never gone against my father.
Defending you felt both correct and disloyal.
It’s a lot of stuff to unpack. Most other men I’ve dated have been the kind my father would have chosen. ”
“Do you think it right that he make those types of decisions for you?”
“Obviously not.” Said with a playful nudge. “Unlike you, I wasn’t the rebellious kid. The obedient lifestyle is the only one I’ve known.”
“That being said, what if your father never comes around? What if he never accepts me? What will you do then?”
Jamilah turned away from him. “I don’t know.”
Her answer was barely audible, but Rashad heard it loud and clear.